The Truth about Cuck?--Story from cap threads

Discovering the Truth About Cuck
Photographers have to keep a lot of strange things in stock for shoots, but most problems can be solved with some chilled wine.  This wasn’t that bad, as the model, Amaranta was very cute, but very nervous as she got ready. I tried to calm her down, get her to sit down, clear her mind and I poured her a little glass. I explained exactly what we would be doing—it was a standard boudoir shoot, and I had the poses pretty much mapped out already.  So we were getting cozy in the office and she was there in her first outfit, fully done in a collar, a thin tank, short shorts, and stockings with one garter. She kicked off her clunky-heeled boots and curled up next to me on the couch. She had an exotic scent up close and I wondered how the rest of her smelt...tasted...felt. I had only had one glass, while she had downed her second. She had opened up, and her ponytail bobbed as she laughed and asked me questions.
That's when she lunged for me. I've gotten jumped by more than one frumpy housewife and some of my models are young teens, so I have an HR motion-detecting camera in the office to keep trouble at bay. I was aware of it as her mouth locked onto mine, the scent of her hair enveloped me, and her tongue tangled with mine. Often, the only way to find out how far they are going to go is to push forward. I had been running my hands over her body as we kissed, but now I shot my hands behind her back and unhooked her bra. She didn't miss a beat, but pulled it off and then broke contact to take her whole shirt off. I got to taste her perfect little tits. She tasted fine, better than fine.  She started unbuttoning my shirt and I made a grab for her waist. She whimpered as I undid the snap on her shorts.
'Are you wet for me?" I asked.
"Yes," she murmured into my ear, lightly blowing hot hair. ‘Are you hard for me?
"Yes, I said, and undid my pants. She hopped up and started slithering out of her shorts. As I pushed my pants off and pulled my cock out for air. This was the last stopping point. She could call it off right now and we would get dressed and do the shoot. But she knelt by the side of the couch, her eyes locked on my erect cock.
"Guide me," she said. I took her collar's ring and pulled her head down. Her mouth and tongue reached out and she engulfed my cock with her hot mouth. Her ponytail bobbed as she moved up and down and it was hypnotic. She brought me close and I called her off. I slipped a condom on and pulled her up onto me. She had stripped off her thong with the shorts and we joined smoothly. Her scent enveloped me. She was so tight and so very wet. I kept thrusting up as I played with that fit young body. We turned over and I began slowly moving my cock in and out of her...going shallow, then going deep. And she began to squirm and give a kind of high pitched yelp. I knew she was on a rising tide and I was too. I felt her pussy grab at me as I began pumping semen. She yelled something or other and we all enjoyed it.

 Then we lay there just touching each other and it was startlingly comfy. I was a little worried about the condom, but it held, and as I took care of my post-coitus stuff, she got dressed again and from that point on, the shoot progressed nearly normally.
Normally, I went through my poses and got some good shots, but abnormally I did it an elemental haze of post-coital bliss and I was wreathed in her scent. And she kept on reaching for me and kissing me when I got near her. Again, it was comfy. I'd just met this girl and it felt like she was one of my ex's come back to stay. The only discordant note was what she said as she was leaving. She wanted a copy of our video, and I couldn't refuse. I mean without her consent, I'd have to destroy it. But after she kissed me goodbye, she said, that she knew her husband would really enjoy it. I didn't get that. But I triple-locked the studio that night and made sure my personal weapon was loaded."

“When I was with her, I couldn’t think. When she wasn’t around that was all I did. What was going on? There was a new fetish out there and I didn’t get it, but I was reaping the benefits. When I’m fucking someone I am really focused on giving her pleasure. I’m not used to thinking about making her husband happy too. What is it? Some defense against cheating? A way to be a man by saying, “Fuck yeah, I love it when she does that…really…I get off on it, okay! No, really! But fucking her, shooting her or eating her cooking was just amazing. I couldn’t get enough of her.  But this…thing?

”It’s sure not the way cuckolding worked in the past. Back then, when she cheated, the husband had no idea, but the whole town knew and sort of approved since he was a fool. And on social media all I hear about is girls cheating ONCE and the relationship is over and she’s a ho.  I admit, I have not really tolerated cheating that much in my life. I’m serious about relationships and if she isn’t, then there’s the door.  I think they have the wrong name for it. It’s really a cheating fetish. How the fuck did they do that? You’d need a literature professor to figure it out. And the sex was fucking fantastic.  Amaranta would do the dirtiest most kinky role-plays and stuff.  And as a model, she was brilliant!

I know a sex therapist pretty well, since she sends me a lot of women who want boudoir pictures, so I asked her. She said, ”It’s a new term for a cheating fetish, as you deduced but has no relation to the old word because the husband is aware. Your conflict is deeper. You are in love with this woman—all your talk about her cooking, her smell, how handy she is with your clients, says it all. You’d marry her in a heartbeat if she divorced her husband, but that would force her to choose or and maybe put you in the cuckold’s role. Does she have this fetish, or is she just devoted to him?”  I couldn’t argue with her logic, and that was where we were when I asked Amaranta.

She burst into tears and lunged at me, pulling me to her. She loved me, and her husband was very sick—terminal with only a few months left. He wanted her to find someone to be happy with and succeeded. We made recordings together until the end, and then she moved in with me.